


The Day He Got the Deal

by oblongpill



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, and also 2d is trans, example: murdoc and ace are half brothers here ✌️, i have no idea if that will be a plot point but it might be idk, i'll add tags as i go, not rly plot twists exactly, this fic is gonna function based on certain headcanons i have so keep that in mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblongpill/pseuds/oblongpill
Summary: Ace was at home eating cereal the day he got the deal. He knew Murdoc said he kept him in the backburner of possible extra band members, but he never thought he’d make good on that promise. It was especially shocking when the voice he heard calling him wasn’t Murdoc’s, but Noodle’s. All the details he got were that Murdoc got himself in trouble, left Noodle with Ace’s information, and that’s all lead to where he was now: head spinning at the prospect of what was to come and barely focusing on the words he was saying.It was especially nerve-wracking that, for the first time ever, he’d be confronting the guy whose poster he’d been kissing as a teenager. What was he supposed to say to him? What if he was nothing like what he imagined? Even worse—what if he’s exactly what he imagined?





	1. A Day in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> yes i named this fic after a marina and the diamonds song lyric lol

“Are you there yet?”

“Not yet, I’m still waiting for Noodle to pick me up from the airport.”

Ace was at home eating cereal the day he got the deal. He knew Murdoc said he kept him in the backburner of possible extra band members, but he never thought he’d make good on that promise. It was especially shocking when the voice he heard calling him wasn’t Murdoc’s, but Noodle’s. All the details he got were that Murdoc got himself in trouble, left Noodle with Ace’s information, and that’s all lead to where he was now: head spinning at the prospect of what was to come and barely focusing on the words he was saying. He was too busy reading the signs and clocks around him yet again to confirm he was where he needed to be.

Did he have his wallet with him? For the tenth time, yes, he did. What about his sunglasses? Where were those? He frantically patted every pocket on his person until he remembered that, oh right, they were on his face. The sounds of herds of heels clicking on the cold floor and foreign accents calling out for each other across the echoing building was enough to give Ace vertigo. He could have sworn his intestines were trying to unravel and escape his body like a clown pulling ropes of fabric out of its mouth. A muffled voice from his phone brought him back to reality, but he couldn’t quite catch it. “Come again?”

“I said you sound nervous.” Each “s” was drawn out like a slow record. If he didn’t know him, Ace would have thought Snake was mocking him. Maybe he was this time, but he could never entirely tell with him. It was always better to knock some sense into him just in case. Ace resented the fact that Snake couldn’t be there with him just to give him a quick anxiety-cleansing punch.

“Can you blame me? I ain’t exactly used to this whole temp thing.”

“Relax, boss, you’re a natural. We’ve all heard you play.” They did. Even almost two decades ago when Ace first picked up the bass and he sounded as musically inclined as a cat in heat stepping on glass, everyone listened until the end of each of his performances. Even if it was just out of fear or courtesy, it meant the world to him.

“I’m not just worried about the music part of it, Snake.” His stomach churned at the thought of the social aspect of this experience. Normally, he’d just see this as an opportunity for fun and fame. Part of him did. But he normally had his gang with him, and this time the only person he was remotely close to in England was in prison. Starting from square one was annoying enough. Starting from square one in a band he’d basically worshipped since he was a teenager was overwhelmingly intimidating. It was especially nerve-wracking that, for the first time ever, he’d be confronting the guy whose poster he’d been kissing as a teenager. What was he supposed to say to him? What if he was nothing like what he imagined? Even worse—what if he’s exactly what he imagined? Just how professional did he have to be? Sure, he grew out of that embarrassing celebrity crush phase years ago, but just thinking back on those memories made him cringe. The only thing that gave him a sliver of stability was the fact that he kind of sort of knew Noodle, albeit only the way he kind of sort of knew Coca Cola glass bottles—they were too sought after, too luxurious, and too expensive for Ace to even dream of coming in contact with under honest circumstances; but with extra connections and petty thievery, he’d occasionally make their acquaintance.

“What else do you have to be worried about? Don’t tell me you’re scared of th—”

“Shut that sentence down right now or I’m flying back there just to kick your ass.” There was a sly snickering at the other end of the phone. “I mean it, Snake! I ain’t scared of anybody, capisce?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen, this call’s getting expensive and I’ve gotta take my kid to school in a few. I’ll be with the gang later for lunch, so we can all chat then. Let me know how things are over there once you’ve got everything sorted out.”

“Alright, but don’t have too much fun without me. Tell everyone I said to suck it. Oh, and say hi to the wifey and kid for me.”

“Will do. Good luck.”

Click. Damn, he hated international call costs. Ace checked his back pocket. Yep, he still had his wallet.

Another half hour of standing and sitting and pacing and sitting and standing and Snapchatting and sitting passed until he finally heard his name called at the other end of the hall. He looked up and saw dread and excitement in the shape of a woman approaching him.

“Ace! Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I thought it’d be,” Noodle said. The two embraced and most of Ace’s nerves calmed down. She was shorter than he remembered. If he recalled correctly, they last saw each other briefly during the Humanz tour in America a few months prior, but only when Murdoc wasn’t completely hogging his attention. They texted once or twice since then.

“No worries, girly. Traffic here can’t be worse than in Townsville.” He slung his guitar case around his shoulder, grabbed his beaten-up luggage, and gestured toward the exit. “Thanks for picking me up.”

Noodle took the heavier of the two bags from Ace and walked out with him to her modest car. “Truth be told, I don’t trust any of the drivers here. If I didn’t pick you up, it’d be a liability,” she laughed.

They stuffed Ace’s belongings in the trunk of the vehicle and situated themselves in the front. Noodle eyed Ace as he brushed his fingers through his rat’s nest of hair. Peaking from under the sunglasses, she could see some discoloration under his eyes. The patterns on his clothes were wrinkled beyond recognition and he looked like he could drop dead at any moment. “You look like you’ve been through hell,” she said. “I’d know, I’ve visited.”

“I’ve been through customs. I’d argue it’s the same thing.”

“Fair enough.” With a turn of her key, the car coughed to life and the two were off. The drive would be about an hour and in the meantime, Noodle connected her phone to the radio to play a podcast. Ace could barely make it out. Something about true crime and comedy. It seemed up Noodle’s alley, and if Ace were less tired, he’d have made an effort to listen. Instead, the vibrations of the car against his leaning head and the voices of the two laughing women emanating from the speaker lulled him to a shallow, unsatisfying nap.

He desperately wished the drive took longer.


	2. A Chain Wallet for the Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prospect of meeting his new bandmates was enough to make Ace’s skeleton liquify. If his group were here—hell, if just Snake were here, he’d have said yes to meeting the others in a heartbeat. Something about being the only newbie in the room prompted him to lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed the rating to m because of some mature stuff i guess, and also i retconned the first chapter so that snake is dropping his kid off at school, not picking her up. so its morning-ish/lunchtime-ish in the usa and afternoon-ish in england. gotta keep those time zones consistent lol
> 
> tw: for drug use

“We’re almost there.”

Ace blinked his groggy eyes open and looked around. He nearly forgot where he was even heading with Noodle until he saw the behemoth of a house crawling closer to them like a giant spider. He’d seen big houses in Townsville before, but this one was surrounded by smaller homes that exaggerated its size by a possible tenfold. It looked recently renovated, though there were still some cracks on the walls at the base and some old wooden panels peeking through. He could have sworn he saw some glowing green ooze on the front lawn. Something about it was just so _haunting_. And yet, given the smooth paint job of the fixed walls and the grandiose presence, he thought it a house fit for a king. He wouldn’t be surprised if he walked in to find a crowned ghost on his throne.

“You impressed?” Noodle asked as she drove into the driveway and parked. Ace caught his mouth agape and nearly drooling with admiration and quickly closed it hoping she didn’t catch it, too. “You’ve seen the Saturnz Barz video, right?” Of course he did. “This is that house.” Really? It was almost unrecognizable. “We’ve cleaned it up a bit—” A lot. “—and got most of the spirits out—” Comforting. “—so, you shouldn’t encounter anything weird while you’re here. Well, aside from the usual antics.” She winked at Ace and stepped out of the car to retrieve his bags from the trunk.

He followed suit and took his guitar case in hand. As soon as he heard the clicks of his shoes on the driveway, everything hit him at once. He was here. _Here_. He was at a place whose driveway was nicer than his entire apartment back home and probably more expensive than all his friends’ monthly rents put together. Looking back at Noodle’s car, it stuck out like a sore thumb. It was much humbler—though still nicer than anything he could afford or care to buy—than the other cars in the driveway. One was a shiny red thing that he recognized from the same music video. The other was a larger and rather intimidating black car. His train of thought was interrupted by the clicking heels coming toward him.

“Oh, uh, sorry about that,” Ace stumbled. He leaned down to grab the bags from Noodle and cleared his throat to deepen his voice. “Nice place you got here.”

She chuckled. God, he sounded like such a dunce. “Wait until you see the inside,” she said. She locked her car and lead Ace to the door, which was somehow nicer than the driveway with its simple yet elegant design. He was almost worried Noodle’s promise of the inside being even more lavish wouldn’t hold up, but that concern fled his mind when she opened the door to reveal a huge, pristine living room just beyond the foyer—a word he never thought he’d think or say out loud—and next to the stairs. On the ceiling hung an elaborate chandelier that he desperately urged to swing from and destroy. It was gorgeous, overwhelmingly so. The warm walls and wooden floor were too clean for comfort, save for a few wrappers that his eyes clung onto for security and familiarity. Noodle seemed to notice as she muttered an apology and picked them up. Something about her cat rummaging through the trash and liking the crinkly noise, though he didn’t see any cat hair on the spotless furniture. He couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. The smell of bleach invaded his nose and resisting the urge to wince at the nasal attack took up all his attention. They likely cleaned the place head to toe for his visit, and while he greatly appreciated the gesture, he’d take being greeted by dust and cat mess over this any day.

Aside from the lack of any sign of life, Noodle was right about it being nice. By no means did it seem a place Ace would voluntarily live in for fear of breaking or staining something, but it had class. “You really tidied this place up, huh?”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Noodle said. She gestured to Ace’s belongings and to the couch. He set his bags down but kept his guitar case on his person. “You have no idea how many deep cleanings we had to do on the rugs before we decided to just throw them out. Did you know that spirits don’t get cleaned out as easily as dirt? Those freeloaders will stay for eternity if you let them.” Based on the residual green ooze he caught a glimpse of outside, Ace pondered they would. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

“Hm?”

“It’s still a bit early for dinner—unless you’re hungry now, in which case we have snacks—but 2D and Russel are in the basement working on the instrumentals for this album. We can let them know you’re here and you’ll get to know each other so you can unpack after dinner; or I could show you where you’re staying now, and you can unpack right away.”

The prospect of meeting his new bandmates was enough to make Ace’s skeleton liquify. If his group were here—hell, if just _Snake_ were here, he’d have said yes to meeting the others in a heartbeat. Something about being the only newbie in the room prompted him to lie. “I have a lot to unpack. I think I should start with that, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Noodle said. She took the heavier bag and started her trip upstairs. Ace took the remaining bag and his grip on his guitar case strap tightened while on the journey up.

Once on the second floor, down the hallway, Noodle knocked on one door decorated by colorful stickers and signs with slogans in all different languages. “If you need anything, this is my room.” She pointed to the door on the opposite wall. A single black “R” sticker decorated its center while the edges of the frame were painted with red dots. It was tastefully minimal. “That one’s Russel’s.” Noodle walked further through the hallway and skipped over the door scattered with band logos and profanities. Upon closer inspection, many of the stickers were the same Rolling Stones lapping tongue logo. Among those repeated images, bands like Metallica, The Beatles, and Guns n Roses appeared on the panel, and a sad scratched up Blur sticker clung on for dear life in the corner closest to the door hinge. “Since Murdoc’s not here now, we just use that room for storage. He’s got a chain wallet stuffed with baggies of leftover drugs in his underwear drawer. If you’re brave enough, you’re free to have at them.” She continued. “Right here’s 2D’s room.” She pointed at the horror movie of a door across Murdoc’s. Caution tape crossed over it along with cobwebs, of which Ace could not tell if they were artificial or not. Some bloody handprint decals accompanied other horror inspired stickers and junk one would expect to see on a twelve-year-old’s room. It was endearing. Ace found himself smiling stupidly at it when Noodle snapped him back to the present.

“This one’s your room,” she said. She stopped in front of the vacant room closest to the others, as there were a few unused rooms down the hallway. They stepped inside and the only thing there for them was a fresh bed, a side bathroom, four dull walls, and a shit load of space. It was almost as big as his entire studio apartment.

“Sorry it’s so empty, we weren’t sure if you were the decorating type.”

Ace was so caught up in the size of the room that he almost forgot to answer. “Oh, uh. No, no, it’s perfect.” He and Noodle set his bags on the bed.

“Do you need any help unpacking? You said you had a lot.”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll be down with Russel and 2D. Russel’s making dinner tonight, so have your stuff done by then or you’ll miss out on some spicy buffalo chicken flatbread.” She winked and stuck her tongue out before exiting the room.

A home-cooked meal? A master bedroom? Free drugs in a chain wallet? The only thing that could make this better was the presence of the gang. That reminded him, Snake was probably with the others for lunch by now. They were a few hours apart and while the jet lag was killing him, he needed a comfortable conversation. He dialed the number and held the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he unzipped the heavier bag. As the ringtone continued, he started unpacking wires and a cleaner, less damaged guitar case than the one he had on his shoulder. Under that case was an amp, the source of the weight.

“Hello? Ace?” the phone asked.

“Hey, Snake! I’m at the place,” Ace said. He opened the better-conditioned guitar case, relieved to find his bass intact and set it aside. He then took off the case he had around his shoulder and uncovered an acoustic guitar with weak fake strings. He sat down and began unstringing it.

“Oh shit! Is it nice? Is it big?”

“It’s nicer than nice, and bigger than big. It’s like if you got every box in the city dump and stacked them on each other.”

“No way, that huge? Have you met the others?”

“Not yet, I’m still unpacking.” With all strings untied, he reached into the center crater of the guitar and pulled out baggies of pills and a white substance hidden within the instrument. It was a bitch to keep out of TSA’s suspicions but his charisma with the security helped him through.

“Did you get through customs?”

“’Course I did. Don’t doubt the boss.” He inspected one bag briefly. Powder, huh? He took a bright yellow ecstasy pill from the other bag and giggled at the novelty of the smiley face imprint. One right about now couldn’t hurt. He swallowed the pill like candy and placed the baggies in one of the drawers in the room. “Thanks for the treats, by the way. You didn’t have to go all out.”

“Don’t sweat it, we wanted to congratulate you. You deserve the best, boss.”

“Aww, you know if you were here I’d share.” He decided not to mention the free underwear drugs a few rooms down.

“I’m with the boys, you wanna talk to them?”

“Yeah, put me on speaker.” Ace moved his attention to the second suitcase. He opened it and found all his clothes haphazardly strewn about inside. He had only a few shirts and pants, some ratty old underwear, and some spare sunglasses. In the pocket corner, he also had his basic hygiene supplies and electronic chargers. As he put those away in his room, he heard a thick Spanish accent on the other end of the phone.

“Ace! You’re in Gorillaz!”

“Wow, Lil’ Arturo, I wish you woulda told me sooner. Sucks that I’m only finding out now.”

“You know what I mean,” Arturo said. “Are you coming back to America for any live concerts?”

“How’s he supposed to know? The album isn’t even recorded yet, idiot,” Snake said. Ace heard a muffled slap and an “oof.” He was so proud.

“Can Billy be a roadie? Oh, oh! Billy’s big, Billy can do security,” Ace heard. As dumb as that big lug could be, he did miss his enthusiasm by his side.

“I’ll talk to the rest of the band about it,” Ace lied. He immediately heard raspberry noises after his answer. “Oh, come on Grubber, you think I’d forget about the little guys back home just because I made it big time? Of course I’m scoring you tickets.” More raspberries. “Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m not in charge of afterparties.”

“Have you met your poster boyfriend yet?” Arturo asked and followed up his question with a laugh.

“No, he’s still unpacking, dumbass,” Snake said. Another slap and another “oof.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ace said, clutching his clothes in embarrassment. “Listen, I got over that crush thing years ago. I’m a professional now. He’s just a bandmate. A bandmate I haven’t even met yet, mind you.”

“If you two get married, can Billy be your best man?”

“No way, Billy,” Snake said. “Ace said I get to be his best man at his wedding.”

Ace’s entire face heated up and he threw one of his shirts across the room. “There ain’t gonna be no best man because I ain’t getting married! Now stop teasing or I’ll beat all your asses once I’m back there.” He picked up some of the hangers in the closet and began organizing his wardrobe. “Anyway, what if he’s not my type? And even if he were, the guy might be straight.” A roar of laughter erupted from the other end of the line. “What’s so funny?”

“Boss,” Snake said in between laughs, “have you seen the way he dresses? He’s not straight.”

“He’s an artist, his clothing choices don’t count,” Ace said. He put away the last of his clothes and kicked the suitcases under his bed. He felt a headache forming. For fuck’s sake, the pill has no business taking so long to kick in.

“We’re just messing with you,” Arturo said. “If you don’t win him over, boss, no one can.”

“I’m not trying to win him over, okay? Sure, he’s cute and he sings well and he’s photogenic, but one thing’s a poster, the other thing’s working with him. I’m just the temp bassist. Nothing more, nothing less. Capisce?”

“Capisce,” they all said, aside from Grubber who spat the word.

Ace looked at the call time on his phone and mentally cursed himself for not keeping track of it. “Listen fellas, I’ll text you in the chat or something. Gotta keep calls to a minimum. Papa’s not made of money.”

“Alright, take care, Ace,” Snake said. “Remember, you’re the best bassist in Gorillaz.”

“Right now, I’m the only bassist in Gorillaz.”

“Which means you’re the best by default.”

“Yeah, yeah. And you’re the worst Snake in the gang.”

“I’m the only Snake in the gang.”

“Which means you’re the worst by default. Take care, boys.”

Ace hung up right before Snake could protest. He stared at the ceiling and just then realized how hard his chest was banging. His nervousness could give Russel a run for his money with the beats his heart was serving. His body became unbearably cumbersome, so he laid to rest for as long as he could until there was knocking at his door. “Come in,” he said.

Noodle opened the door a crack. “Russel’s finishing up dinner. Are you done unpacking?”

Ace sat up and the sudden blood rush from his head was almost enough to convince him to jump out the window. “Yeah, I’m done, thanks. Are we working on songs after dinner?”

“Nope, it’s your first day here. We have plenty of time to drain you with work later. Plus, I’m sure the time zone thing is killing you.” She wasn’t wrong. He nodded and the two made their way downstairs where the heavenly smell of cooking meat punched Ace right in the gut. His mouth flooded with saliva in anticipation for the meal, so much that he forgot about the people he’d be dining with.

The two turned the corner into the kitchen and found a man taking something out of the oven. Once he placed the tray down and stood up at full height, he faced them and smiled as warmly as the smell of food made Ace’s stomach feel. “Hey, you must be Murdoc’s replacement.” He extended his big hand, which Ace took and shook firmly. “I’m Russel.” He looked a lot shorter in person. And a lot more approachable.

“Ace,” he said. He was still a bit jittery but having another American in the room eased him. “Smells good in here; reminds me of Vinnie’s.”

“Vinnie’s?” Russel asked. “You’ve been to Brooklyn?” Noodle quietly excused herself from the room.

“Yeah, I’m from Townsville. It’s not too far.”

“Right, I should’ve guessed from the accent.” Russel missed having someone around whose voice reminded him of home. The last member who did that for him was Del and thinking about that was just asking for a heavy day. “You Italian?”

“On the mom’s side.” Ace barely knew her, but what he did know was that his dad certainly didn’t carry that gene. "Guess I’d fit right in at Brooklyn, huh? I haven’t been in a while, though.”

“Once the album’s done, if we tour there, I can show you around.” Ace enjoyed that idea more than he probably should have. He’d only been away for a day or two and he was already nauseatingly homesick. “Just out of curiosity, how do you and Murdoc know each other? I think he told Noodle about you two, but I’m still in the dark.”

“Oh, that. Um, he and I—”

“Russ, that smells amazing!” Ace turned around to meet the interrupting voice behind him and nearly had a heart attack. Walking in with Noodle was a lanky man with beautiful black eyes slightly covered by strands of a beautiful blue bush at the top of his beautiful round head. He seemed to notice Ace staring because he quickly corrected himself and extended a hand. “Whoops, that was rude of me. You’re the new bassist, right? I’m 2D. Or Stuart, or Stu, or Pot; take your pick—just not Tusspot. I still get emails about that.” His speaking voice was nothing like his singing voice. It lacked all the grace and serenity of his performance persona. It wobbled and shook like the infrastructure of Ace’s childhood house in the city dump and it was something akin to a home.

Ace’s body went into autopilot as he returned the gesture and shook his hand. “I—uh, I’m, uh…” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Ace.” Wow, 2D was tall.

“Oh, like in a deck of cards?” Ace nodded and thanked the heavens that 2D didn’t notice his sweaty palm. “Who was that mobster that got shot while holding the ace of spades? That’s the death card, right?”

“Joe Masseria,” Ace and Russel said simultaneously.

2D shook Ace’s hand more excitedly. “Yeah, that’s the guy! You even kind of sound like a mobster, don’t you?” He finally released his damp hand and walked over to Russel. “Is it dinner time, yet?”

“Let it cool, ‘D. Can’t have you burning yourself every time.”

While Russel and 2D talked, Ace tried to stop his flustered smile from turning into a full lovestruck giggle. Everything heightened, and his brain slipped into a state of euphoria. Infatuation was a drug in the shape of a smiley-faced pill, and he was a poor doomed addict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont forget to leave comments pls! i'd love to hear ur thoughts.
> 
> my tumblr is http://censorship.tumblr.com/


	3. A Sad Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, 2D, why don’t you show Ace some of the songs you’re working on while you wait?”
> 
> “Good idea,” he said. He rose from his chair and whispered to Ace, “I actually have a song I haven’t told them about yet. It’s not entirely done, but it’s a start. You want to hear it?”
> 
> If Ace nodded any more vigorously, he could have found flight. He would be the first person to ever hear this song, and he would likely be the first person to break the table with his excited grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep in mind, this fic is gonna be based off one of my main headcanons (which you'll see at the end ;))

By the time dinner was served, the room’s inhabitants—save for Noodle, who prepared herself a tomato feta salad—were melting in the spicy aroma. Russel didn’t always cook, but when he did, it was treated as a holiday. They might as well have broken out into dance at the presentation of well seasoned buffalo chicken drenched and marinated in an orange hot sauce laying tantalizingly on thin, crunchy bread. It was sliced into several uneven servings eagerly awaiting its fate. It was just sloppy enough to remind Ace of the restaurants he’d frequent back home. They sat with Russel and Noodle at the heads of the quaint table, Noodle taking some extra glee in this act as 2D protested. Something about the head normally being reserved for Murdoc and Noodle calling dibs this time; 2D could have it next time, she promised, which excited him immensely. For now, he sat across Ace, who was still pulling himself together at the idea of being the last one to sit at a group meal.

“It’s a shame Murdoc had to miss out on this,” 2D said, filling his plate with stacks of slices until Russel had to nudge on 2D’s arm to stop him from taking everything. “Wasn’t this one of his favorites?”

“That’s why I made it,” Russel said. “We’ve got Murdoc #2 to enjoy it, at least.” He teased at Ace and when he finished serving himself, he gestured toward him to get some food. “You know, you do look a lot like him.”

“I get that a lot.” Ace took only a few small slices and nodded to Noodle to have the remaining.

“No thanks, I’m a vegetarian.” She held up her salad and Ace took this sign to hoard the rest of the flatbread in earnest.

Orange and red pooled on the top of his meal, swirling as he jiggled his plate slightly. The warmth consumed his clouded vision and his stiff body, and for once, he was thankful he took his sunglasses off indoors so he could drown in the purified hues. His previous anxiety slithered away from his stomach, replaced by the need to swallow this thing whole.

He took his first bite.

Maybe it was the tastiness, maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the drug, but he was on the verge of tears. Fuck, the world was so good to him. Surges of pleasure ran throughout his entire body and fed him an electric current of euphoria. The energy inside him bubbled and spewed and all he could think about was running a marathon. He’d run a million marathons if it meant more dinners like this. Due to being forced to sit, though, this vigor could only be tunneled into ravaging the meat in front of him like a lion reveling in the glory of its hunt. Carnivorous and needy, his instinct to tear apart the aggressive oranges and reds was enough to completely deafen him to his bandmates.

“Looks like someone hasn’t eaten in a while,” Noodle poked fun.

“‘D, get him a napkin,” Russel said. He tried disguising his laughter as a cough, not wanting to be rude to his guest.

2D, laughing unashamedly, excused himself to the kitchen to retrieve a roll of paper towels and brought them to the table. He took one and leaned over the table to dab at Ace’s sauce-stained cheeks. The sudden touch jolted Ace’s attention from his food to the softness of the material, making 2D flinch and shield himself briefly at the other’s movement. He immediately caught himself and softened. “Sorry,” 2D said. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Can I, uh, you know?” He gestured to his mouth and cheeks and slipped out a giggle.

“Yeah,” Ace croaked. “Sorry about the mess.” The paper towel approached his red-splattered cheeks slowly this time. The calculated touch was so overwhelmingly inviting, Ace could purr right into it. He never felt anything so soft in his life, like every sense was heightened by a factor of twenty. He silently begged for more napkin caresses, but the joy was cut short.

“All clean,” 2D said and sat back down. “Don’t feel too bad, we’ve all gotten over-excited before when it comes to Russel’s food.”

“Flatter me all you want, ‘D, I’m not cooking again tomorrow.”

“Damn it, I thought that would work this time.”

The table laughed and dinner proceeded. Questions about each others’ days and how Ace’s flight treated him were exchanged. It was all a fast blur. In what was likely a half hour of eating and chatting, Ace only registered about five minutes. When the empty plate in front of him was taken, he snapped back to present time.

“I’ll take that for you,” Russel said. “I made dinner, so who’s washing dishes?” As if on instinct, 2D and Noodle rushed to place their fingers on their noses. Noodle was just a millisecond late. Ace flinched before Russel assured him, “You’re a guest, don’t worry about it.” He then looked at the other two and pointed to Noodle. “Nose goes, Noods.”

“I did them last time,” she said.

“Be faster next time,” 2D mocked. “Plus, but you got the head chair today.”

“He’s right,” Russel said. Noodle rolled her eyes with a huff and took the remaining plates and utensils. She made her way to the kitchen sink and Russel followed. “I’ll clean with you if you want, you big baby.” There was no malice to his words and it in fact made Noodle laugh and playfully punch him.

“We need a chore chart,” she said.

“We had one, remember? Murdoc set it on fire when it was his turn to throw out the trash.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Before she turned on the sink, she yelled out to the dining room, “Hey, 2D, why don’t you show Ace some of the songs you’re working on while you wait?”

“Good idea,” he said. He rose from his chair and whispered to Ace, “I actually have a song I haven’t told them about yet. It’s not entirely done, but it’s a start. You want to hear it?”

If Ace nodded any more vigorously, he could have found flight. He would be the first person to ever hear this song, and he would likely be the first person to break the table with his excited grip. He got out of his chair jarringly, making him dizzier than he already was. It was a pleasant headrush.

“The studio’s in the basement. I’ve got the piano set up from earlier,” 2D said. Ace followed him downstairs and drilled his eyes into 2D’s back. It was a really nice one. It wasn’t particularly broad-shouldered, which fit well with his short torso and lanky physique. Even the small of his back fit him perfectly. It dipped in a way that Ace figured would fit under his hand quite nicely. Ace’s eyes wandered down to 2D’s ass, which was admittedly much fuller than his own, though not exactly a bubble butt. He didn’t know whether he should feel jealous of him, attracted to him, or embarrassed for looking. He settled on embarrassment and shied his eyes away.

There was nothing of interest in the walls around him so he sneaked back to admiring 2D’s upper body. His shoulder blades looked sharp enough to cut through the shirt material guarding them. Ace gulped at the thought of them slicing his fingers like paper cuts. That is, if he’d ever get the opportunity to touch them bare. He shook the fantasy out of his mind. This was a business matter and he had to be professional. Being professional was a hell of a task when he was feeling dizzy and giddy, though. He gripped the stair rails for dear life. He wondered if he tripped, would 2D catch him, or just break his fall? Maybe he’d move out of the way in time and Ace would fall flat on his face. Either option somehow felt like the fun one.

“Think of something funny?” 2D asked. Ace didn’t even realize he was giggling.

“Yeah!” Ace squeaked. Damn it, that was too enthusiastic. “It’s just a joke I heard earlier.” He’d sooner die than tell him he was thinking about his falling fantasy. They reached the end of the stairs and 2D turned around to face him.

“Can I hear it?” Fuck.

“Um, yeah, it’s uh…” He searched in the vaults of his mind and picked out the first joke he could remember Snake telling him. “Anal with my girlfriend made my whole day. But it made her hole weak!” Nailed it. He added a “badda bing” and finger guns to match.

It took a few seconds of 2D scanning his brain, but when he finally got it, his cackle took up the whole room. He snorted and coughed and held onto his stomach for fear it would jump out laughing, too. Ace had heard the joke a million times before, but with the ecstasy's effect and 2D’s reaction, Ace couldn’t help but join in, too. He made 2D laugh! And he made him laugh like _this_! He was already over the moon since dinner, but this skyrocketed him further.

2D wiped his tears away and attempted to collect himself. He even placed his hand on Ace’s shoulder to stabilize himself as he was on the brink of falling over, but he continued laughing in short bursts between his words. “You really got me, mate! You should tell that to Noodle. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” He actually wasn’t too sure about that.

Ace came down slowly from his high of laughter, trickling in a few chortles before letting out a long sigh. “Man, I haven’t laughed that hard since I left home.”

“Too homesick?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Ace fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. The jingly noise filled him with an odd glee.

“I’d imagine you miss your girlfriend a lot.”

Ace put the zipper down. “That was just a joke. I don’t actually have a girlfriend.” He scratched the back of his head trying to find something to do with his hands.

“Oh, sorry for assuming,” 2D said. After a bit of awkward silence, he lead Ace to the rest of the basement. Clashing colors of bright red instruments and bright green buttons and bright blue wires invaded his eyes and swirled like a psychedelic dream. The colors were so glaringly vibrant, he wanted to hug them all. There was recording equipment littered all over the floor and wires hung sporadically from the ceiling. In the corner stood a small soundproof recording section of the room with buttons far too complex to even think about looking at them. Dusty guitars laid against the wall alongside scratched-up basses—Ace examined these, but 2D warned that Murdoc would kill him if he so much at breathed on them. “It’s unfortunate,” 2D said. “Those basses would probably suit you. You’re like his twin, weirdly enough. Less ugly, though.”—folded keyboards, one melodica, and empty soda cans. A drum set sat on the far left and the sticks were tossed on the floor near it. In the scrambled mess of instruments, a large piano with a sticker-infested journal laying on the keys sat idly with the accompanying bench. This was the kind of unkempt mess Ace could live in. He never felt more connected to an environment in his life.

2D took his seat on the corner of the bench and patted the empty space beside him. Ace sat next to him. His body heat warmed his soul and the touch of the cold piano chilled his bones. It was a glorious equilibrium.

“Boyfriend, right?”

Ace’s trance was cut entirely. “What?”

“When I asked if you had a girlfriend,” 2D said, “I didn’t mean to assume. You have a boyfriend, right?”

Ace was touched by the consideration, but it only meant he’d have to say the same pathetic answer twice. “Nope. Don’t have one of those either.”

“Oh.” 2D took the journal and flipped through the pages. “That’s a shame. I’ve only known you for an evening and you already seem like such a nice guy.”

“Well, I’m on the market.” Ace wiggled his eyebrows. The confidence boost in this drug was possibly the best—or the worst—double-edged sword. “You looking to buy?”

“Haha, very funny.” 2D didn’t look up from his journal. Okay, so it was definitely the worst double-edged sword.

“Yeah, I was just kidding,” Ace lied. “You’re not into guys anyway, huh?”

“Says who?” 2D stopped on a page and dog-eared the corner.

“I don’t know, I just figured, uh… Statistically, you know? It’s probable.”

“I failed statistics in school. It’s a shame! I’m not so good with names and stuff. But I’m really good at remembering numbers and dates and formulas, so you’d think I’d be a math whiz! But applying them on paper was always what brought my scores down.”

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Into guys.”

“Of course.” He answered like it was common knowledge and Ace had to wonder if he was on something confidence-enhancing, too.

“You have anyone you’re seeing now?” Ace tried making his question sound like it was nothing more than casual interest from a nosy friend who wanted to gossip instead of a desperate loser. It apparently worked, because 2D gave him a side glance and a shit-eating grin.

“I’ve been around the block. Fooled around once or twice recently. Maybe more.” This amused Ace.

“Anyone serious?”

“No.” This amused him even more. “I haven’t been in a real relationship in a long while. It’s a bit hard getting back in the dating scene, especially when the band takes up most of my time. I mean, I love it. But music wasn’t ever my first choice, you know?” 2D offered a sad smile but shook it immediately. Ace’s heart ached more than it normally would. “Enough about that, though. Let’s show you the song, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ace said. He skimmed the page 2D held open. One page was blank save for the words “I WILL ALWAYS THINK OF YOU” sprawled across in red. The page adjacent had messily written lyrics to a song called Souk Eye. A doodle of a car on the road accompanied it.

“I don’t have all the lyrics figured out,” 2D said, “but I’ve got most of it done. I’m thinking of making this the album closer.” He set the journal open in front of him to read along with the words. He cleared his throat and toyed with the piano trying to find the right key. Once he found it, he began.

The music started off cheerful enough. The little taps against the keys enraptured Ace, and while he was curious how the rest of the song would go, he decided not to spoil himself by looking at the journal’s lyrics. Instead, he bobbed his head to the beat and stared at the graceful fingers occasionally missing the exact note and fumbling each time it happened. It was charming.

Once the lyrics rolled in, though, the charm faded into something else—something more sour—something like misery. The chorus hit and Ace’s chest constricted. It became hard and tight and he was suddenly conflicted over this entire experience. Ace wasn’t the overly empathetic type, but drugs that fucked with human connectivity made everything more complicated. He looked up from the hands on the piano to the face of the singer which grimaced at the release of the lyrics. It was as if he was admitting a physically painful confession. By the end of the song, Ace was ready to sob.

“So what do you think?” 2D asked nonchalantly.

Ace had trouble thinking of the appropriate response. “It’s really, um… powerful.”

“You think so? I was afraid it’d come off as being too whiny.”

“No, no. It’s good. I just have to wonder who it’s about.”

2D stared at the journal in front of him. His hands rested on the piano tensely. He looked like a somber painting. “It’s about Murdoc.” He took the book and closed it. That was the worst response Ace could have predicted. He’d hoped it was about a breakup or the death of a pet or anything other than the man who gave Ace the opportunity to be here in the first place. Somehow he felt responsible.

“Yeah, he’s kind of an ass,” is all Ace could think to say.

“‘Kind of’ is an understatement. I’m glad that tosser’s gone.” He played with one of the stickers on the cover of the journal. It was half peeled anyway.

“But the song says you want to stay with him. Do you actually always think about him?” Silence. Guilt gnawed at him like the sound of a fingernail hopelessly scratching and trying to hook under an unpeeled section of a sticker. A few impatient seconds passed.

“I miss him.” 2D wrenched the sticker entirely and Ace saw himself in the stubborn bits of sticky paper that remained. “This is the first time we’re recording an album without him. He started this band; he feels irreplaceable."

“Well I’m here proving that wrong, aren’t I?” That brought a half-hearted smile to 2D’s face.

“Yeah, you are.” More silence. “By the way, how do you know Murdoc? He’s the reason Noodle knew to call you, right?”

Ace panicked. “Murdoc and I are just friends.” No. “Sort of.” Eh. “It’s complicated.” Bingo.

“Usually Murdoc’s ‘friends’ are people he’s blackmailed.”

“Nah, the guy’s got nothing on me.” Half true.

“When did you guys meet?”

“At your first concert in New York.”

“That long ago? And he still remembers you?” 2D stumbled on his words and caught himself, “Uh, not that you’re not memorable. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that Murdoc doesn’t really keep people in mind unless they’re useful or family.”

“I guess I’m just useful,” Ace said. His hands were damp with sweat and he stood up from the bench. “Hey, why don’t I grab my bass and we can go over the other songs you have for the album? That way I’ll be more prepared for recording.”

“Sounds good.” 2D was quick to move on. “You can look through my journal when you come back and decide what song you want next.”

With a thumbs up and a bit of unbalance on the way out, Ace retrieved his bass and returned to the piano. They decided on running through the songs in the same order they appeared in the journal, and after several practice runs and hours that sometimes were minutes and sometimes were years, Ace’s high dwindled. They ended back on Souk Eye and he was no longer ready to sob for the song.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Noodle,” Russel said. The two were huddled on the couch watching whatever movies decided to play back to back.

“Hm?” Noodle asked half asleep.

“I just remembered: I asked Ace earlier but 2D interrupted before he could answer. How does Ace know Murdoc?”

Noodle yawned. “They’re half-brothers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave comments, thank u!!! my tumblr is http://censorship.tumblr.com/


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